


go slow, moonlight

by APHEILIOS



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Assassin Aphelios, Captivity, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Introspective Bullshit, M/M, Nudity, Pit Boss Sett, Strangers to Lovers, kinda slow burn, lapslock, this is softer than expected but also. the f i l t h will be worth it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APHEILIOS/pseuds/APHEILIOS
Summary: after a failed assassination attempt, aphelios is captured by solari warriors and made to fight for money with the help of alune's magic. the rules are simple: win, and live. lose, and the lunari back on mount targon will know suffering tenfold. aphelios has no choice but to comply.driven by desperation and the will to keep his people alive, aphelios leads the solari's interest to the pit boss, sett. he uses his power to try and convince the vastayan to help free his people -- and sett, fascinated by the man who could win a fight mute and blindfolded, can't deny him a thing.
Relationships: Aphelios/Sett (League of Legends)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 111





	go slow, moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first league fic and wowwowo it was so fun to write! settphel has made a lovely home in my heart so i hope, if anything, that translates the most. 
> 
> this started off as a smut one shot idea but quickly changed into a multi-chaptered fic with some kinda slow burn and pining so... here we go, i guess. ready to SUFFER. also, for future chapters i will tag kinks and other things if needed.
> 
> thank you for my bestest friend in the world alex for beta-ing this and also dragging me into settphel hell with you. love u lots.
> 
> my twitter: @APHEILIOS.

the untouched nature of ionia surrounds aphelios like a blanket, everything a breath of fresh air in comparison to the murky and unsettling drip of the caves back home. parts of the land still retain the harmony that he has grown to hear about; green, lush with wildlife, vast in size and full to the brim with history. their travel to the pits was grand, passing through the rainbowed canyons in shi, the pastels a stark contrast to the molten and aged rock of his mountain. days later, they traveled through the natural architecture of the forests, everything blending into the surroundings. home to the infamous forest markets, the lake of lighted lilies. it was _harmonious_. 

even calming, despite his circumstances. 

but _now—_ he knows that after those quiet days of travel, what surrounds him is anything but. the quiet buzz of the ionia terrain is replaced with crashes of blades and cheers sounding in his ears, the striking grunt of pain and skin connecting to skin. it is a shaking contrast. even with a blindfold on, he can _sense_ the animosity, the feral fever. 

aphelios is far, far from home. 

_i’m with you, brother. just focus._

he releases a shaking breath, a foreign hand shoving him forward harsh enough he stumbles.

“you’re next, lunari,” someone spits, the words sounding like a curse. aphelios tries to breathe but it all feels suffocating, unfamiliar and far too shrill. he assumes he’s been dragged to a fight, his abilities landing an impressive mantle on his shoulder. the rules were simple: win fights and live. lose, and the lunari will know suffering far worse than the biting chill of the other side of their mountain. the solari are brutal to their captives, and aphelios bites back the urge to spit at the peek of shoes he finds beneath his blindfold. he needs to make it home to his people before death decides to visit him instead. 

the crowd practically hoots when he ventures forward, a door slamming shut behind him. aphelios stands straight, bitter noctum lingering on his tongue. they’d tipped his chin back and forced the poison down his throat before throwing him into the pit, spilled drops trailing from the corners of his lips and down his neck.

the fights are never fair, aphelios’s senses stripped away and usually given blunt blades. _entertainment_ , they’d snickered, all while aphelios’ entire body flames and numbs at the same time. it was, however, something he has learned to adapt to. alune’s voice whispers something through his veins like an _i_ __nstinct_ , _ aphelios dipping low the same time a _whoosh_ of a fist strikes forward. there’s a frustrated grunt from the man meant to take him down— apparently, he figured a blinded and mute man would go down easy for him. a simple victory. aphelios is bold enough to smirk. 

he can sense the man straightening to charge forward and aphelios cocks his head to listen, already anticipating a second swing. really, his captives must have not told them his capability, the fact that aphelios has been a trained warrior with magic bleeding through his veins. even on mount targon he trained to see even without his vision, much like the seers that delve deeper into their moon magic. he steps aside at the last second, his opponent tumbling into the muddied wall. in a second, aphelios is bringing a blade down, satisfied to hear it tear through flimsy fabric. 

“you _bitch,”_ the man groans, trying to chase him down. he’d begun to already fight sloppy, focused on revenge rather than intelligent calculation. aphelios adjusts his grip on the blade, alune’s magic coursing through his fingertips like electricity. she serves as his eyes, a quiet hum that nobody knows about, a force to be reckoned with that a mere man cannot blind or numb away. aphelios doesn’t give the man time to recover, he’s elbowing him upwards and knocking him back. he hears his footsteps stumble, struggling to grasp for stability. aphelios could stop, and perhaps he should. but something about the crowd rowdy in his ear makes him feel reckless. 

_aphelios, end this. conserve your energy for later._

if a show is what they want, he thinks, a show is what they will get. 

the crowd seems to be charmed by the man now gasping for air. yet aphelios is growing swift now, relishing in the swarm of people above the pits that shout down with a mix of anger and appreciation. he wonders how many bets he’s tarnished tonight, how many pockets he’s emptied. money does not mean a thing to him when he’s fighting for his life, and those of his people. these are the thoughts that push him forward again, reaching out to land blow after blow. there’s grunts and cracks, bones and blood. he doesn’t even care what part of his opponent’s body he bruises, driven by the magic and exhilaration. 

it’s a bell that stops him, aphelios covered in sweat and drops of blood that do not belong to him. 

with an aching body, he slumps to his knees to catch what little breath he can gasp in, tasting dirt in his mouth. 

“let a blind and mute take ya down, kenka? waste of good money” someone sighs from above, jewelry jangling as he moves. the crowd quiets down when the same voice speaks again, and aphelios knows that he is exactly who he’s looking for. the owner of these gambling pits. “bring ‘em on up here, kayn. wanna look who took down my best fighter in the eyes.” 

the creaking pit door opens once again, aphelios crawling backwards towards the mud wall before he’s yanked upwards to his feet. he struggles for a brief moment, thrashing and punching— even his solari captors knew not to put their hands on him. the blades he was given cut through skin, a yelp sounding in his ear. “fuckin’— _the fight is over,_ ” the man, kayn, jolts, his arms tightening around him. “this ones a little jumpy, boss.” 

“take his blindfold off ya fuckin’ idiot.” 

“oh. right,” kayn mumbles, one hand deftly untying the dirty rags shielding his eyes. sunlight blinds him, aphelios instinctively squinting. he has trained his eyes to be used to the dark for so long that it almost hurts, but he pushes through if only to look upwards. at the edge of the pit he sees him, the boss that so many noxian and ionian fighters whisper of. the man in question glints in the brightness, his bright red hair like sunlight itself, skin on display and deeply tanned. draped in fine fabric that must cost a fortune, aphelios can’t say he’s _surprised_. 

the boss smirks down at him, teeth poking from his teeth. ah, so he truly is a half-beast. a vastayan. of course, aphelios knows of them, but to see one in such power is— _different_. unexpected. most people see them as a burden and a bother, an unnatural combination of beast and man. 

“what’s the name?” the man asks, bending down so he’s peering over the muddy pit. aphelios simply stares, grimacing slightly. the man laughs and claps. “oh shit, that’s right. cat’s got your tongue. kayn, bring our new champion up won’t ya? give ‘em a proper congratulations.” 

previously blindfolded, aphelios wasn’t able to witness his surroundings. they’d tied the cloth over his eyes even before entering the nearby terrain to keep him from knowing his whereabouts, most likely, but now he drinks it in _hungrily_. surrounded by trees and greenery, aphelios can’t pinpoint what direction he may have come from. it all looked quite similar, and the immediate area seems heavily guarded. the pits are mud and stone, made to accommodate a large audience while still retaining that _grimey_ look to it. plenty of the lingering bodies nearby are covered in some amount of mud, the rain from a few nights ago surely making the fights more entertaining. 

as he ascends from the pits, groups of men stare at him as he walks, some glaring, some triumphant. most have probably never seen lunari cloaks before, nor the violet markings on his face. he was clearly an outsider, foreign. coming from the opposite side of their yellow maps. 

the area above the pit is lavish, shaded beneath a canopy that blends into a towering tree. the boss thumbs him forward into the building behind them as he calls for the crowds to disperse. the structure matches those he passed through his travels previously, everything blending into nature, coexisting. for a moment, the solari disappears with kayn and the boss, leaving aphelios alone in the room. his eyes glance around to pick out paintings and herbs growing in the windowsills. there’s lush carpets at his feet and alcohol lining the kitchen. aphelios isn’t used to such precision, the cave life hard even if his people have learned to make do the best they could. 

his eyes snap forward when the half-beast reemerges, alone this time. his toothy smile widens. 

“so what’s a pretty, deadly thing like you doing down in these ugly pits?” he asks, golden eyes drifting to settle on his rope burned wrists, the skin there red and tender. aphelios can feel his face flash hot at such a question, or, the _way_ he’s asked. “don’t seem incapable of fighting a good fight, or escaping any of those bastards. think you could take ‘em all blindfolded too, if i’m honest. so _what?”_

the words he wants to speak won’t form, however, swallowed by the inebriating noctum. he glances past the boss, back towards the door the solari captors have just exited from, their hands full of glittering money. none of which aphelios will ever get to see. he doesn’t fight for the glamour of victory though, but for the livelihood of his people back on mount targon. for his sister whispering in his head, reminding him of his purpose. his _orbit_. 

“ah,” aphelios hears, the half-beast’s ears flickering as if he understood. he stands, aphelios watching him draw closer and closer until the distance between them is nearly suffocating. here, he can see the taut of the boss’ tan skin, can see jewels piercing through his nipples and the soft fur of his ears. “they told me somethin’ bout some poison. don’t worry, we can feast and then we’ll talk. can probably brew you somethin’ to ward off the effects. how’s that sound, mooncake?” 

food _did_ sound nice. as did the promise of a soothing drink to choke away the noctum. it takes a moment before aphelios can tear his eyes from the man’s figure and meet his eyes. 

_your plan, brother. remember what you came here to do._

aphelios nods. 

  
  
  
  


the celebration feast is grand with torches lighting the area near the pits, the heat simmering against aphelios’ skin. if he were to look up he’d find the night sky twinkling with stars, dimmer now than on the mountain, but still reminding him so much of home. his eyes linger on the grey of the moonlight, a yearn growing in his clenched fist. it fuels him, the energy that it emanates, aphelios closing his eyes to breath in what he knows others may not feel. the spirit world, _alune_. there, faintly now that the noctum has worn away, but _there_. the solari have deprived him of the night, the moon and the memories for far too lost in their bright and golden places, and now he is almost thankful for this opportunity. 

he’s sat next to _the boss_ and kayn, his apparent right-hand man. they've both devoured an impressive amount of food, drinks in hand and laughing too loud. aphelios has grown so used to scraps that now, he’s left to pick at the meat and vegetables on the table. eating here and there, relishing in the tasteful wine and ale in front of him. usually, he wasn’t very big on drinking - too engrossed in strict training to indulge in it, though he does appreciate the warmth blooming in his gut. the noctum effects have already begun to weaken, body no longer so numb. words still faltered at the back of his throat, but he could hum and nod along to brief conversation. alune has long since disappeared again, though, and aphelios misses the company. 

the comforting chatter she offered. a smile taunts at his lips, knowing she would definitely snicker at his awful alcohol consumption. unlike aphelios, alune was used to drinking for her training. 

“so, mooncake, how’s it feel to be the next victor?” a voice hums from his side, leaning close. aphelios can smell ale on him, faintly, paired with something spiced. the man smiles at him enough to show his fangs and aphelios simply shrugs. “brew still kickin’ in? don’t worry. i know you’re used to winning, aren’t ya?”

he is, usually. at least in battle. 

“those captors of yours love to talk. boasted about keeping a _docile assassin_ ,” there’s eyes raking down his body, aphelios trying not to be affected by such direct observation. he was used to going unseen, always sticking to the shadows, but something about the man before him makes him feel vulnerable. no longer invisible. “but you don’t seem so docile. somethin’ in those eyes.” 

aphelios isn’t given time to think before the man stands, clinking a fork against the metal cup in his hand. the crowd around him goes wild, hooting and chanting an unfamiliar name. 

_sett. sett. sett the beast. sett the boss._

“alright, alright, calm the fuck down now, huh?” he-- _sett_ , laughs. he has a leg of chicken in his hand, biting into it before tossing back the rest of what’s in his cup. aphelios allows himself the moment to really look at him, his size abnormally large. fingers more like claws, ears twitching. never did he think he would be sitting next to a half-beast, nor hearing congratulatory words from his lips. “you know the drill. got a new fighter in our hands. beat kenka hard.” 

men shout as much as they boo, sett glowing in the torchlight. 

“show some respect,” sett warns, pointing somewhere into the crowd. “actin’ as if you won’t be next in the pit half dead if you aren’t careful. now, kenka lost me a good bit of money, but we don’t discriminate. give it up for our new lunari warrior -- _aphelios_ , the weapon of the _faithful_.” 

  
  
  


it’s well into the night when the party starts to slow, most of the celebrators passed out in the open field with cups still in their hand. the tables have been reduced to scraps now, too, bare bones and cores of fruit. sett nods for him to follow, pushing himself back from the chair. leading him back into the house behind him, aphelios wonders why the solari captors have yet to shackle him down. most nights he was bound to keep him from running, but he hasn’t seen them since the victory. it was unlike them to let their prized assassin out of their sight, especially with how much money aphelios has won them. 

“where are the solari men?” he asks, his first words of the night. after hours of silence, hearing his own voice sounds foreign, the words a little cracked. sett pauses his movements, turning back in surprise. his ears have perked up even further, eyes wide. 

“he speaks,” he exclaims. “damn, your voice is not what i expected. maybe it's the alcohol but it’s a _damn shame_ you gotta swallow all that poison sounding sweet as hell.” 

aphelios’ whole body tenses, not so used to words like this. of course, he’s been complimented on his work, his form. his studies, the determination that keep the lunari grounded -- but never this. never like sett’s surprised fixation on his voice. he clears his throat, eyes casting over the house and away from sett’s ongoing stare. 

“they’ve been given a little hut for the night, some whores to keep ‘em busy. they won’t come looking for you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“not worried,” he says, stepping forward towards a nearby table. trinkets cover it, drawings too. there’s one of a woman, her hair spilling over her shoulder in silver strands, eyes wrinkled but kind. she reminds aphelios of alune in some ways, strength in her set shoulders that he expects of a vastayan— no, a vastayan _woman_. he remembers hearing the pit boss’ father used to run circles in these pits, and yet he cannot find another drawing nearby. 

“that’s my ma,” he hears, sett drawing closer. aphelios did not realize he’d been holding the drawing, setting it back down quietly. although he would never admit it out loud, aphelios sees the same kind eyes in sett’s now. “you can stay here for the night. with the solari here, don’t have much room and kayn is passed the hell out on the table anyways.”

sett’s ears twitch, a sharp tooth hanging over his lip, nibbling down on it for a brief moment before he steps a bit closer.

“but first - you gonna tell me why you let those bastards hold you up in their shackles?” 

aphelios knew the inquisition was coming, he could see the curiosity sparking in sett’s features throughout the entire feast. even through the alcohol, he would feel his eyes linger on him, golden and still so bright when glossed over with inebriation. aphelios tried to ignore it, his own gaze outwards towards the crowd to try and pick out a solari through the haze of bodies. they seemed to keep to their tent, however, which was probably best with aphelios so freely sat next to the pit boss, wine in hand and wrists unbound. 

that same curiosity seems to have followed them now, in sett’s ionian home with the drawing frames littering the tables and the fire pit casting amber light on sett’s tanned skin.

he sighs, trying to single out how to explain to someone that was not _intimately_ aware of the feud between the groups up on the mountain. it has gone on through hundreds of lunar changes, the balance so intricately displaced that aphelios fears for the safety of his family each morning when the moon shies away once again. 

“mount targon is split between the solari and lunari, though not evenly,” aphelios starts, staring into the fire, the flames licking further up, smoke spilling into the chimney top. “they worship the sun, believe it’s the one true energy and power source. we _disagree_. but it’s worsened, with many of the solari warriors successfully pushing the lunari into caves, taunting us that we must _like it._ living in the darkness, like the moon, the _night_.” 

he clenches his jaw, remembering the cold nights. the fear in the eyes of those around him after losing the normalcy they once had. they’d adapted, of course, growing their crops in the caves’ corners. turning natural pools of water into bathhouses or resources for water when rain or snow didn’t come. the lunari are strong, much stronger than the solari give them credit for. they’d snickered at the prospect of them dying out in those cold and dripping caves, but aphelios trained until his body was bruised, until poison burned through every vein in his body. 

alune did, too. her magic powerful enough that she became a hope to the lunari in and of herself. it was her orbit, one that aphelios still struggles to accept. 

“i do my duty to the moon and my people, i am a _warrior_. though not without imperfections, and that is how the solari captured me. forced me to fight because it was easy winning money, and they had a bargaining chip over me.” 

“they threatened your life?”

aphelios snorts softly. the prospect of solari being able to take him down is funny now, and they knew it. even without alune’s abilities, he could drive his moonstone blades through their skulls. 

“they could _try_ and kill me, but no. the lunari back home. we aren’t as strong as before with the solari having an upper hand. i fight and _win_ for them.” 

he hasn’t given himself the chance to look up and gauge sett’s reaction, but if his plans were to go accordingly, he will need to be forthcoming. honest. with outsiders, aphelios still struggles to do so, but _he_ was the one that led the solari here, afterall. murmured about the pit boss running the show further north, how the money there must _stack_ in his house. the solari eagerly pushed him forward then, bent on taking it for themselves with aphelios’ magic. 

his eyes flicker back up, finding sett glaring down at him with pinched brows. 

“i hate captors,” sett says, his words deeper. _angry_. “i hate fuckers who think they can _treat_ people like they’re _nothing._ treat them like shit for no reason. my ma—“ 

he cuts himself off, eyes closing, inhaling deeply. there’s a passion in sett’s voice that aphelios recognizes, and it’s understandable, considering he is vastayan. his kind facing even worst discrimination throughout the whole of runeterra, malicious words beneath breaths and strange looks at the features that he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to. agitation flickers his ears and aphelios is reminded of the wild dogs that used to venture the mountains in search of food. 

“i want your help,” he says simply, honestly, because this was his reason to make a trip to the pits. 

sett’s face deepens. “what?” 

“you have allies. _fighters_ feet away passed out on your ground,” and aphelios closes the last space between them, looking up at sett, forcing him to _see._ to see that he means it, that he’s not merely asking, but demanding it. “you know what it is like— being _forced_ to hide. i have gold to pay for your service. i know it’s not easy to meddle in something like this. something ancient.” 

too close, aphelios thinks. he is too _close_ to him, can feel sett’s body heat emanating from his bare chest and hot breath. he isn’t even sure what pushes him to get so close, maybe _desperation_ that he can’t do anything but try and plea. led by irritation that he let himself fail a mission and end up on the opposite side of runeterra, surrounded by drunken pit fighters and the infamous beast of the pits. he was not one for pleas, but aphelios has been trained to do what he needed to survive. he will get what he came for.

for a moment it’s silent, only sett’s gaze bearing down on him and the gentle exhale of his breathing. he wonders what he sees like this. what he thinks of the violet marks on aphelios’ face and his moon-kissed skin, pale and striking next to his. 

“i don’t need gold,” he states, a hand lifting. aphelios watches it, anticipating where it will land. he is not foreign to the needing fingers that men or women want to put on him, even if he doesn’t _understand._ intimacy was something he sacrificed to find his orbit, afterall. but sett seems to hesitate, tracing the markings on his face from a distance. “but i like your company. and the fire i see in your eyes.” 

“that’s the reflection—“

“not _that,”_ sett laughs, his teeth showing now. for a moment he just grins down at aphelios, gold eyes as warm as the heat on his back. “ya came all this way for your people. fought blindfolded and mute, risked _your life_ just to get what you needed without even knowin’ if someone like me would wanna help someone like you. i respect that.” 

“you’re vastayan,” he says simply, flustered from the words. he does what he needs to do - nothing else. “if there is anyone who can help, who can understand, it is _you_.”

“you’re right. i do understand,” and sett moves, pacing the flooring. he does so for a few quiet moments, aphelios watching from near the fire. and then, sett turns back, clapping his hands. “we can talk more in the morning then. i’m too drunk for this shit and i gotta find some excuse to keep tha’ solari off my back. host an expensive fight or somethin’ that’ll keep ‘em here.”

sett seems to pause. 

“only if you want to fight. it would be the best way to keep ‘em from taking you. i wouldnt be able to stop them.” 

“i am always ready to fight,” aphelios smirks. 

“ _right,”_ he chuckles. “deal then. you should sleep soon if that’s the case, the fights start early. the bedroom to the right is all yours but don’t be surprised if ya wake up to a drunk kayn stumblin’ in. oh, and if you wanna wash, the bathhouses should be empty tonight.” 

  
  
  


past the surrounding structures built into the trees, aphelios finds the bath house tucked into a small section of forest. the architecture is much like the rest of the ionian traditional style, the roof reaching high into the fauna, natural, like it actually grew there. aphelios steps inside, steam hitting him from a nearby hot bath. the space is covered in hanging floral and smaller trees, rocks that almost seem to glow in the dark. it’s empty at this time of night, most of the people that would use it passed out or partying until sunlight peeks over the trees. aphelios uses the quiet moment to his advantage, slipping his clothes off and stepping into the water. 

there’s a small waterfall to his back, filtering the water through a stream and giving it a much chiller temperature than the steamy one nearby. he sinks further into it, savoring the feeling. the solitude. the solari did not give him much time for these luxuries, only offering him a bar of soap and a few minutes to wash on the road. now, though, aphelios groans. it is not as charming as the caves back home, with moonstone glowing in the walls, but the air still smelled like lavender and soap. it soothes his skin after months of harsh fighting. 

a few moments later, with suds scrubbing into his skin, the door creaks opens. aphelios sinks further down on instinct, letting the water swallow him up to the neck. his heart speeds up with the intrusion, always watching behind his shoulder now, the skip only worsening when the visitor steps into the dim light. 

_sett_ —his torso bare, a towel hanging low from his hips. 

words don’t find him when sett simply grins at him, the towel dropping to his feet. there’s an air of confidence that surrounds him just from standing there, aphelios fixated on how his muscles move as he drifts into the same water. aphelios stays still, the soap studs hiding most of his own figure as sett stops only a few feet away. he dips his head into the stream of water, shaking the water from his head like a dog.

“i thought you said the baths would be empty,” aphelios says, his eyes stuck on the prominent features of sett’s profile. his jaw slanting, stronger now that he’s smirking again. his usually curled red hair is slicked back, droplets of water cascading down his lean back. aphelios is not new to the prospect of nudity, of _course_ , he’s seen plenty of bodies. has been tempted by them simply out of curiosity but— 

but none of them have ever truly _phased_ him. 

he isn’t sure why it’s different now, he barely knows this man besides the information he’s gathered on him. but he did spend months on the idea that sett would help him, a familiarity to him that aphelios struggles to detach from. a hopefulness he’s clung to. aphelios can hear alune’s whispers in his subconscious, murmuring about _caution._ if she were here now, flooding his veins, she’d surely repeat it. aphelios was never asinine but he did flirt with recklessness, a challenge and experience tempting him more than obstinate normalcy. his eyes glued to sett now is the kind of reckless he is not sure he can _afford_ , but one he can’t tear his temptation from. 

“well,” sett starts, his hands moving down his chest to scrub away dirt there. aphelios follows those scarred hands, transfixed with the matching ones across his entire body. “i lied.” 

aphelios wants to roll his eyes.

“not that i don’t _trust_ you, mooncake, but i am still reluctant to let you out of my sight,” sett’s eyes glance over to him with the same kind of amusement that always lives there. “i fucking hate those captor fuckers the same as you, but i don’t wanna have ta’ pluck them from my ass if you go missin’.”

“we had a deal. running would only come back with punishment for my people tenfold.” 

“fear can make people a little stupid,” sett hums, turning towards aphelios now. his eyes move away and to the stone walls, the fauna hanging over and sparkling with water. there’s a flush creeping up his neck, the feeling of vulnerability prominent on his skin. something he’s not familiar with. “what’s the matter? trust me with your life but not seein’ you without clothes?” 

the question is taunting, as always, aphelios nibbling down on his bottom lip to bite away the scoff. he is not used to such… _show,_ either. the brutal fighting pits or the charismatic charm sett reeks of, let alone the ease and poise of his presence. “i don’t care about that,” he lies, because it seems safer than explaining that where he comes from, modesty is what he was taught. _hide_. _keep to the shadows_ , _don’t let yourself be seen, aphelios._ “it’s a bathhouse.”

“then what are you hiding from?” and sett’s voice dips deeper, losing that poking tease. “look at me, aphelios.” 

the name— _his name—_ strikes him, so used to being called by something else. sometimes he wonders if he’ll forget it. it’s always lunari. mooncake. _bitch._

his eyes move over and up, finding sett’s golden ones. they seem darker somehow, aphelios unsure if it’s the shadows of the bath house or if it was his vastayan blood changing them. it takes only a few moments of quiet contemplation for him to stand, aphelios dripping with water. his own body holds similar scars, though fewer, all across his thin figure. he can feel sett’s interest move downwards, tracing the violet markings that match the ones on his face. they wrap around his torso, his arms, his thigh. intricate things. 

“trust goes both ways,” sett continues, stepping forward. aphelios’ skin crawls, the feeling inching up his spine. “i gave you my word.” 

this close, aphelios’ head meets just under sett’s chin, the difference in height forcing him to crane his neck. he settles for staring forward instead, allowing himself to observe the glistening skin before him. it is _ravaged_ with dozens of scars, each one of various sizes, though all of them deep and rugged. he wonders what stories made permanence on sett’s skin, what violence he endured to be where he is now. “you have to understand,” he murmurs, pausing on the piercings that adorn the pit boss’ nipples. “how hard trust comes to someone like me these days.” 

“you think it’s easy for me?” sett laughs, though there isn’t much amusement there. “too many would enjoy my position. the solari, included. _power_ is what they crave.” 

aphelios closes his eyes, squeezing them tight. “i am well aware, sett,” he sighs, the water moving as sett pushes closer. he can feel the heat of his skin, a sensation he is growing used to, it seems. aphelios’ eyes fly open, sett leaning an arm against the stone behind them, his face now level to his. aphelios cannot help but stare at the scars here, too, marking his bottom lip and the top of his right eye. slashed across a cheek, a small chunk of skin gone. 

“have to start somewhere, no?” he asks, and then he pauses for a hesitant second. his next words are low, barely heard over the blaring sound of the waterfall. “you can touch them if you want.” 

heat floods down aphelios' neck. he hadn’t realized sett would notice his lingering curiosity. 

“go ahead,” sett encourages quietly, aphelios feeling a palm wrap around his wrist. sett brings his hands to his chest and in turn, aphelios’ brows pinch at the firmness under his fingertips. “we can start our trust here.” 

the moment suspends; the only sound that exists in this vacuum space is the waterfall behind them and the shaking breaths that sett exhales. aphelios traces across the muscle on his chest, the scars bulging pale white against the tan of his skin. _golden_ , just like the same pair of eyes watching him now. just like the solari’s weapons and armor— though there is no discontent for such brightness when it belongs to sett. he has always been led to fear the color, to watch out for the flash of gold in his periphery.

but here he finds it _beautiful._

aphelios has never touched someone like this - has forfeited this bit of intimacy to train, to focus on what his people needed. a warrior, not a _lover._ but his fingers move down, dragging across the piercings. quietly, sett inhales, aphelios looking up briefly to find an intensity in his gaze. it doesn’t stop him, though, aphelios fascinated by the harsher scars that line his stomach, going down to his thighs. 

“we match,” sett murmurs, knuckles caressing at the scar on aphelios’ neck. he almost flinches, anticipating a hand to close around him and give in to every distrustful crawl in his thoughts. but sett is too gentle for his size, craning his own neck to show his off. and it’s true, they do _match._ the lines nearly identical in size and length. “looks like we both got trust issues then, huh? got this after a failed assassination attempt. even here, vastaya ain’t looked at equally sometimes. almost got me, too, the bastard.” 

the knuckles stay there, aphelios drowning even in such miniscule touch. he’s only known the roughness of blades and punching fists, of legs that bruise his body and scars, scars, and more _scars_. he backs into the stone wall, overwhelmed, racing thoughts becoming fuzzy. sett follows like a charged magnet, leaning over aphelios’ dripping body. the rough rock is cold on his back, digging into the tender skin, but he doesn’t try to move. not when sett is so close. 

“this is… _reckless_ ,” aphelios states. _but you like reckless,_ he whispers to himself. is it so wrong for him to want this touch? no matter how foreign it is, or who it comes from? is it wrong to itch for this? he’s only known alune, his sister, and now he aches for something more. for something _new_. he is already so far from home, and aphelios finds himself clinging to the nearest thing that warms him like the fires in those targon caves. 

“i know.”

a beat. sett’s eyes slide to aphelios’ lips. 

“can i kiss you?” 

it’s asked with such husk in sett’s voice that aphelios shivers, nodding even if every feeling in his mind tells him _no_. he isn’t sure _why_ he lets him, knows that this is _too fast_ , _too soon_. even more impulsive than he is used to. but when lips press to his, aphelios can’t breathe. it is without question that he is new to this, sett cupping his chin to guide it. he moves with him, sett sighing when aphelios willingly accepts his tongue. he tastes alcohol there from the feast, bitter but sweetened with fruit.

sett’s hands slide down, over his chest and every dip until his waist. a sound muffles from his lips, his skin on _fire_ suddenly. even the chill of stone and water cannot fizzle it out, not when sett’s mouth trails his jaw, breathing hot into his neck. faintly, aphelios feels teeth prick at the scar there, the skin somewhat of a fascination to sett. 

“you are so,” sett murmurs, squeezing at aphelios’ waist. there’s claws digging into his skin, the vastayan strength crowding around him. “so _beautiful_. move _gracefully_ when you fight. when you talk, it’s like a song. it amazes me.” 

“you don’t _know_ me.” 

sett draws back, arms slipping from around aphelios’ waist, instead placing them on the stone behind them. like this, he feels engaged— though this kind is _welcome._ aphelios wants to pull him in again, strangely, wants those teeth on his skin and those lips on his. _reckless, you’re so reckless, aphelios. did you forget who he is? your loneliness is leading you astray again._

aphelios remembers years ago, when alune had been whisked away deeper into the caves to train, how aphelios had been left alone with his thoughts. he almost lost himself then too, let the aching loneliness whisk him away and down a path that led nowhere. he promised himself he wouldn’t allow such things to happen again - but aphelios struggles to pull himself away, still, torn between duty and what’s in front of him now. 

sett is watching him intently, his gold eyes appearing as an even deeper amber now. “i would like to,” he insists. “is that so bad?” 

_no,_ he wants to say. _no, but it’s not allowed. i have a duty elsewhere, and it doesn’t involve you like this. doesn’t involve distractions or worrying about another life._

“i don’t know yet,” he settles on finally, because he doesn’t want to say something to break the way sett _looks_ at him. no matter how selfish it may be. “help me and see.” 


End file.
